The theme for this First Sunday in Lent is “Our Journey to the Wild”.  The text is from the Gospel of Mark:  “And immediately the spirit drove Jesus out into the wilderness.  And he was in the wilderness for forty days being tested by Satan, and he was there among the wild beasts, and heavenly messengers were taking care of him.”

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Robert William Service–a keen observer of life lived out in  the wilderness–offers the following thoughts in his poem “The Call of the Wild.” They are, I think, important words for us to hear this day as we begin our Lenten journeys. Service writes:

 

            Have you suffered, starved and triumphed,

            groveled down, yet grasped at glory,

            grown bigger in the bigness of the whole?

            Have you done things just for doing,

            letting others tell the story,

            seeing through the nice veneer the naked soul?

            Have you seen God in God’s splendors,

            heard the text that nature renders?

            (You will never hear it in the family pew.)

            The simple things, the true things,

            the leave of all the dark things–

            Then journey to the Wild–it’s calling you!

 

            They have cradled you in custom,

            and have primed you with their preaching.

            They have soaked you in convention through and through;

            They have put you in a showcase,

            you’re a credit to there teaching–

            But can’t you hear the Wild? –it’s calling you.

            You must probe the silent places,

            you must seek what path betides you,

            you must journey to a lonely land I know.

            There’s a whisper on the night wind,

            there’s a star agleam to guide you,

            and the Wild is calling, calling . . .let us go!

 

 

Our lesson from the Gospel of Mark this morning–the text that John read earlier–is in fact the story of Jesus’ journey to the Wild.  Having been cradled in the customs of first century Judaism,

having been fully primed with the teachings of the Synagogue, Jesus comes to the banks of the Jordan–and immediately, as Mark puts it, he is baptized, the Spirit descends upon him, he is declared as one beloved of God, the Spirit drives him into the Wild, he is tested by Satan, he is apparently preyed on by wild beasts, and the angels minister to him.  Here in the Wild–in this lonely land–Jesus is forced to probe the silent places of his life while attempting to discern what path betides him.

 

And for one who is not the reflective type–as one who breaks out in a cold sweat at the very mention of silent retreats–this story absolutely frustrates the hell out of me!  For don’t miss this point:   in our text today it is other folk who “DO” things to Jesus.   Jesus is not the  actor but rather he is the acted upon.  John baptizes him, the Spirit descends upon him, the Devil tempts him, the wild beasts taunt him,  and the angels minister to him–but Jesus says nothing, does nothing, except show up where he is suppose to be at the beginning of the story.  And here is the problem for me–and maybe it is a problem for you–for I desperately want Jesus to be like me–to DO something rather than simply sit by passively. I want to believe that Jesus was intentionally mapping out some sort of Savior strategy in his head: First, I’ll get baptized (CHECK), then I will anticipate the arrival of the Holy Spirit (CHECK), then I will fulfill the requirements for time in the wild (CHECK), then I will give Satan his come-upp’ins (CHECK), then I will begin a fulfilling and faithful ministry in Galilee (CHECK). . . But none of this is present in the text.  Jesus was not following some TO-DO LIST--for instead he was allowing himself to be freed of social conventions and controls. Jesus was not allowing himself to be put in a showcase–for instead he was allowing himself, as Robert Service puts it, to “see through the nice veneer the naked soul.”  Jesus was not simply marking time–for instead he was allowing himself to be fully present in the Wild–a place of both preparation and struggle, a place of both danger and wonder, a place of both basics and trust.  And driven by the Spirit, Jesus allowed himself to be taken on a journey of radical simplicity–not so as to flounder around in introspection but rather so as to flourish with renewed energy, so as to flourish with liberation and wholeness, and so as to flourish with power to proclaim and become good news!

 

A journey to the Wild . . a journey to radical simplicity . . a journey where we are not the actors but rather we are the acted upon!  This is indeed a timely call for us, a timely call to us, as we begin this Lenten season.  For how many of us here today have been cradled in,  and nurtured by, cultural customs and norms–the need to over-achieve, the demand to  over consume, and the temptation to over-indulge?  How many of us have been primed by social conventions–taught to believe that individualism is the highest good, that concern for self far outweighs concern for others, and that our own needs must be met before we can address the needs of those around us?  A lenten journey to the Wild, a Lenten journey to radical simplicity, a Lenten journey where we are not the actors but rather the acted upon challenges all of these cultural customs and social conventions–just as it changed Jesus and enabled him to challenge the cultural and religious norms of his own day.

 

And here is the rub, I think!  Here is the scary part.  For such a journey to the wilderness, such a trek to the desert places in our lives, involves risk–the risk of having our priorities re-prioritized, the risk of becoming a different person than the one who began the journey, the risk of letting go and being led, the risk of being faithfully ministered to so as to be able to faithfully minister to others.   The American novelist Thomas Robbins says all this in a different  way when he writes:

 

            What have you risked in your every-day life?  Have you ever risked disapproval?  Have you ever risked a belief?  There is nothing particularly courageous in risking one’s life. . . you lose it, you go to your hero’s heaven and everything is milk and honey ‘til the end of time–right?  You get your reward and suffer no earthly consequences.  But that is not the courageous journey.  For the courageous journey is risking something that you have to keep on living with.  The courageous journey is risking something that might force you into the wilderness so as to rethink your thoughts,  and suffer change, and stretch your consciousness.  The courageous journey is risking the cultural and religious cliches in which you are immersed and enmeshed!

 

And so it is that I return to Robert Service’s poem as we begin this Lenten season–as we begin the risk of embarking on our own journeys to the Wild:

 

They have cradled you in custom,

            and have primed you with their preaching.

            They have soaked you in convention through and through;

            They have put you in a showcase,

            you’re a credit to there teaching–

            But can’t you hear the Wild? –it’s calling you.

            You must probe the silent places,

            you must seek what path betides you,

            you must journey to a lonely land I know.

            There’s a whisper on the night wind,

            there’s a star agleam to guide you,

            and the Wild is calling, calling . . .let us go!

 

Thanks be to God–AMEN